Time To Change
by Webstergem
Summary: When Lassiter and Shawn go on a case as partners, they don't expect to be trapped in a warehouse with nasty wounds and only each other to survive. Rated T just in case. Shassie slash.
1. Chapter 1

_Part One: Shawn Spencer_

_THUMP THUMP THUMP_

Something seemed to be pounding on the inside of Shawn's skull. The metal floor felt like a wall of ice beneath him. Looking around wearily, his blurry vision focused on the plain gray door.

He braced the palms of his hands on the floor and pushed up. Suddenly the room was tilting in all directions. Shawn's stomach churned and his head throbbed. He thought he was going to be sick.

When the horrible feeling faded, Shawn tentatively reached his hand up to his head to find the source of the throbbing. His fingers came in contact with something warm, sticky and wet, and he winced as a blast of blinding pain shot through him.

_Head wound. Great. _Shawn thought to himself.

He eyed the door again. He doubted it was unlocked, but if it was….

He shifted so that he was on all fours, and then, slowly and carefully, he crawled to the door.

The floor burned on his knees through his jeans, and his teeth dug into his tongue every time he moved to keep conscious. The door was only a few yards away.

He stopped for a second when he reached the door, placing a hand on the cool surface to steady himself. He looked up at the knob, and with his last drop of energy, he reached for it, and turned.

The knob didn't budge.

Collapsing against the wall in defeat, he sat alone, only able to sit there and go over the last few hours in his mind….


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, It's me! Just a warning for this one, brief strong language. Could be more language like that in the future. **

_Part Two: About Two Days Earlier_

Lassiter was typing a report for the chief when he felt a hand smack his shoulder blade and heard the tell-tale slurp of a smoothie behind him.

"Hey, Lassie-face!" Spencer's voice sounded over his shoulder. Lassiter spun his chair around to face him. He eyed the smoothie, then snatched it from Spencer's grasp. "Got five words for you, Spencer," Lassiter droned.

A lop-sided grin appeared on Spencer's face, "Are they shut up and go away?"

"Good, you can be taught," Lassiter turned back to his work, a small smile appearing on his face and the smoothie still in his hand.

He heard Spencer round the corner of his desk to stand to the side of Lassiter, "And I have five words for you, Lassie."

"Oh?" I look up at him, confused.

"Yes. Give. Me. My. Fucking. Smoothie." He counted the words on his fingers, and then lunged for it, but Lassiter pulled the half-drank smoothie out of his reach.

"No. This is mine now." Lassiter taunted.

Spencer sighed in mock defeat, "Alright, Lassie. I'll make you a deal."

Lassiter cocked an eyebrow.

The lop-sided grin returned, "You can keep it if you drink it."

Lassiter took one look at the chewed-on straw and handed back the smoothie.

Spencer chuckled, "thought that's what you'd choose."

Lassiter turned back to his report so he didn't have to see that stupid triumphant smirk on Spencer's face.

After a minute or so of silence, with the exception of the clicking of the keyboard, Lassiter's voice broke it.

"Spencer?" Lassiter asked, not looking away from the computer.

"Uh huh?" Spencer replied.

Lassiter turned his chair towards him, "Why are you still here?"

Spencer shrugged, "Chief wants us to meet in her office."

Lassiter sighed, saved his work, and followed Spencer into the Chief's office.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, this is Chapter 3. More chapters coming soon! This one has some strong language too.**

_Part Three: Carlton Lassiter_

Carlton pushed through the darkness, entering the soft light….

He awoke on a metal floor, staring at the ceiling. He was in a large storage room, it seemed. Crates of god-knows what piled high, and a plain metal door near the front. He was still a little disoriented, but nothing hurt except for a slight throbbing in his leg.

He did a double glance at the door. There was something collapsed beside it. Memories flooded back, and he knew exactly what it was.

_Oh god. Spencer._

Carlton braced himself on a crate, and heaved himself to standing. His leg _screamed _in agony, and, crying out, he fell back to the ground. Spencer twitched slightly over by the door.

Carlton took deep, shaky breaths, his heart pounding. When he calmed, he tried again. Putting as little weight as possible on his leg, he finally got up to standing.

He limped heavily over to Spencer, kneeling beside him. He noted the blood-soaked patch on his head with a grimace, and stood again to go over to the crate. It was stock full of towels.

_Why would someone be shipping towels? _Carlton thought to himself. But he just sighed and rummaged though it, laying some on the floor. He took a small one at the bottom, and with a sharp tug, he tore a strip off.

He limped back over to Spencer, who was now moaning and clenching his fists in his sleep. Carlton wondered what he was dreaming about. Maybe it was about him….

He shook that thought from his mind. _Stop lusting after the damn bastard, Carlton. _He ordered himself.

Carlton looked at the towel he had brought over. It wouldn't be nearly enough for that wound….He thought of his jacket. It was supposed to sustain all kinds of damage. With a heavy sigh he stripped it off, folding at and plastering it to the back of Spencer's head. He tied the strip of cloth around it.

Standing again, he admired his handiwork. His leg protesting, he set to work.

A few minutes later, Carlton had laid Spencer down on some towels, and finally settled down to look at his leg. The spot in the middle of his shin was shiny and purple, as well as swollen. He wrapped it in a small towel, and looked up at the ceiling, as if help would come from the heavens.

It didn't.

"Dammit!" He cursed loudly at their situation.

"Havin' a bad day, Lassie?" A voice sounded from his right.

Carlton couldn't help himself. He smiled.

"Good morning to you too, Spencer."


	4. Chapter 4

**This ones kinda short, sorry. I'll post more soon, I promise.**

_Part Four: About Two Days Ago (still)_

"Chief," Lassiter greeted the interim chief as he entered the office. Straightening his jacket, he flops down in one of the chairs across from the chief's desk. Shawn follows suit. "You….asked for me?" Lassiter questions.

"Yes," the chief replies, snatching a folder off her desk and handing it to the head detective, "Your briefing."

Lassiter skimmed through it for a moment, then snapped it shut, "Alright. I'll go tell O'Hara right away."

The chief sighed, "O'Hara's not your partner for this case."

Lassiter was astonished, "Then who is, might I ask?"

The chief gestured to Shawn, "Spencer thought it might be uncomfortable for O'Hara to take this case, so he offered instead."

"Wh….why would O'Hara be uncomfortable?" Lassiter asks, glaring at Spencer.

"The first victim is her brother's best friend." The chief answered.

Lassiter stared at Shawn for a long moment, and the physic could feel a blush starting to creep up is neck. "Alright, Spencer. Let's get started," Lassiter announced, leaving the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Fandom: Psych**

**Pairing: Shawn/Lassiter**

**Warnings for this chapter: Strong Language**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

_Part Five: Shawn Spencer_

Shawn grinned at the Detective. "I usually have pineapple when I wake up, but you'll have to do."

Lassiter rolled his eyes, and Shawn laughed.

His head screamed with agony. And then he remembered.

"Ah!" Shawn clutched his skull. He felt something soft, wet, and warm there. Pulling his hand away, he saw it was stained with a slight amount of blood. Despite the pain, he reached back again. He felt some kind of bandage there.

He tilted his head ever so slightly to see a Lassiter sitting on top of something that looked like towels. He was faced toward the door; his clothing torn and dark red in some places. The towel wrapped around his right leg was soaked with blood.

He had helped him. Maybe even saved him.

_Lassie saved me._

Lassiter groaned and rolled over, wincing slightly as his leg touched the towels. When gray eyes met hazel, he smiled, but tried not to show it. "Spencer," he growled, but Shawn would have none of it.

"You….saved me, Lassifrass!" The pet name was hilarious, even in his strained voice.

Lassiter growled, "It was nothing."

"Uh, hello! You saved my life!" Shawn saw the tip of the gray fabric and grinned, "with your favorite jacket!"

Lassiter's cheeks felt hot, "We're not having this conversation."

"I think it's a little to late for that," Shawn tried to sit up, and felt his stomach churn. He bent over and dry heaved.

"Spencer! What the hell do you think you're doing!" Lassiter crawled over to Shawn as he heaved again.

"Was just…..trying to…get to you….." Shawn said between hoarse breaths. He dry heaved for a third time, and tears sprang to his eyes and rolled down his face. His head and stomach were on fire.

Lassiter sat behind him and wrapped his arms around Shawn's shoulders as he gasped for breath.

"It's okay, it's okay…" Lassiter cooed softly, rocking Shawn gently.

As Lassiter came to his senses, he realized what he was doing. He stood abruptly, and walked over to rummage pointlessly in a crate, taking care to not look at Shawn.

Shawn grinned, but didn't say anything. He figured if he was going to be trapped with Lassiter, he should at least keep him in a good mood.

Lassiter went back to Shawn and fussed with the bandage on his head, "You already tried the door?" he asked as he worked.

"Uh-huh. It's locked," Shawn said, trying not to move his head to much.

"Fuck," Lassiter swore as he moved. Shawn chuckled slightly, and Lassiter growled.

"What?" the cop asked, finishing his work.

Shawn laughed again, "You don't seem like a man of curse words."

Lassiter allowed himself a small smile, "There's lot's of things you don't know about me."


	6. Chapter 6

_Part Six: The First Victim (About a Day Ago)_

Lassiter crouched beside the body, examining wounds. Spencer stood beside him, obviously puzzled.

"Michael Patrick O'Hara. 32 years old. Been dead about 24 hours. Strangled." Lassiter gestured to the marks on the neck.

Spencer closed his eyes and put his finger to his temple; his usual "I'm having a vision" pose. After a few seconds, he gestured to the door without opening his eyes.

"Everyone except for Lassie and the dead guy; please leave. You ruining my psychic vibes." Spencer said. Lassiter rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

As soon as the last person exited, Shawn dropped to his knees next to Lassiter, opening his eyes. "Look, I'm not gonna play this "psychic" crap with you, so just hear me out."

When Lassiter was silent, he continued, "Look at the neck. See the burns? Couldn't be caused by hands, and it's not normal rope burn."

Lassiter looked at the neck closely. Spencer was right; they weren't normal rope burns. It almost looked like it was made by….

"What about plastic?" Lassiter suggested. Spencer thought for a moment, the reached for Lassiter's bag.

"Hey! Give that back!" Lassiter lunged for the bag.

Spencer pulled it away, rummaging inside it. Looking at a newspaper he found, realization crossed his face.

"What?" Lassiter slid over to see it.

"Plastic, you say?" Shawn asked as he brandished the newspaper for him to see, "The word "bungee" comes to mind."

The title read "Recent parolees are seen bungee jumping from dangerous heights, among others."

"Of course! The gang I arrested all those years ago!" Lassiter exclaimed.

"Looks like they're having fun. Totally off their guard." Spencer added. "If we catch them off guard…." Spencer trailed off, thinking Lassiter got the point.

"Well, would you look at this," Lassiter says, flipping the page.

"What?" It was Shawn's turn to ask.

"House of parolee gang foreclosed by the bank. Leader, Michael O'Hara, says…." He gesture to Shawn, seeing if he got it. Spencer's eyes widened.

"Looks like we found the connection, Lassie. Race you to the car!" The both stood.

"You'll lose," Lassiter grinned.

"We'll see about that," Shawn said with a smirk.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry this took so long. I've been kinda busy. Honestly, I think this chapter is just slashy crap, but please review anyway!**

_Part Seven: Carlton Lassiter_

Shawn raised an eyebrow, "I've got nothing better to do."

Lassiter sighed, "You first."

Shawn cleared his throat, "I'm not a psychic."

Lassiter grinned, "But I already knew that."

Shawn looked at him, slightly alarmed, "You did?"

Lassiter rolled his eyes, "You think I believed all of that floppy crap? And you said to me, "I'm not gonna play this "psychic" crap with you."

Shawn sighed, "Alright, I admit, the "floppy crap" a bit excessive. But it's still your turn."

Lassiter thought for a minute, "I don't know what to say."

"Here, I'll help," Shawn thought for a moment, "Why did you become a cop?"

Lassiter sighed, "My father was a drunk who was an ass to everyone, never helped me with anything, and really never accomplished anything at all. So, I guess I just wanted to be different than my dad," Lassiter sighed, then grinned, "Here's one for you: why are you so unnaturally hyper?"

Shawn laughed slightly, which caused pain to shoot thorough his skull, "I guess I was just like you. I wanted to be polar opposite of my dad. No work and all play. But in the end I do the work just the same. To answer your question, I don't know. I was just always that way."

Lassiter sighed, "Fair enough. You tired?"

Shawn shrugged, "Not really. I'm freezing though," Shawn shivers.

Lassiter glanced over at Shawn, who was wrapped up in 50 pounds of towels, a thin sheet of sweat coating his skin. Lassiter scooted over to him and took his head in his hands, making sure not to touch the wound, and kissed him on the forehead. Shawn felt his face grow hot.

Lassiter sighed, "You idiot. You have a fever!"

Shawn drew in a shaky breath, "Yeah, that happens sometimes."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. Scanning the room, he looked for anything that could break his fever.

"You know, sometimes excessive heat can destroy pathogens," Shawn suggested.

"Your already in excessive heat," Lassiter commented. Seeing Shawn slightly disappointed face, the cop narrowed his eyes. "What kind of heat were you thinking of?"

Shawn shifted uncomfortably, avoiding the question with "It was just a suggestion."

Lassiter turned his back to Spencer, almost unable to hide his smile as he searched for more towels.


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay guys, this story is not over! (it's almost done) But I will keep writing it, so keep reading! And REVIEW!**

_Part Eight: The Second Victim_

"Great, so now we have another dead guy, a team full a murderous bungee jumpers, and no leads to find them." Lassiter sighed as he paced, counting off on his fingers.

"Lassie, this is a girl," Shawn corrected, causing Lassiter to roll his eyes. Shawn knelt beside the body, and noticed something strange. There was a small bulge in the woman's right pocket. "Hold on…what's this?"

He reached in the pocket and pulled out a scrap of newspaper. The words art museum, about in the middle of the scrap, had been circled with a red pen.

"A-ha! I knew this death was weird!" Shawn stood up, still studying the newspaper.

"What are you blabbing about this time, Spencer?" Lassiter's voice sounded bored, but his eyes said different.

"This person wasn't their next victim. She was killed because she knew to much!"

Lassiter snatched the newspaper, and as he read it, hi eyes widened. "That's why she was dialing the police! Not because she was in danger; because she found something!"

Lassiter read a part out loud, "On the night of September 19, there was a gunshot heard on the top of the abandoned art museum on Elm Ave." He handed the scrap to forensics, and then clapped Shawn on the shoulder.

"Let's go check out that art museum!"


	9. Chapter 9

**I am a f*cked up human being for writing this chapter. Only two chapter's left, guys! Anyway, warnings for this chapter: SLASH! Let's just say Shawn and Lassie, well...**

**Other warnings: Declaration of love, kissing, and strong language.**

_Part Nine: Shawn Spencer_

It felt like his brain was rupturing. He couldn't think past the pain, and it scared him. He knew he was going to die.

"Lassie," he rasped, trying to wake the officer, "Lassie!"

"What, what!" Lassiter turned groggily to his companion. But one look at Shawn's state, Lassiter was sitting beside him, cradling his head in his arms.

"No, no, no, no, no," Lassiter pulled Shawn into his lap, "Shawn, you can't do this. You can't die. Your supposed to be the annoying dick of a psychic that gives me a headache every day, the guy that loves pineapple smoothies and 80's references, and riding in the echo with Guster. Your supposed to be there. Every day." Tears formed in Lassiter's eyes, and Shawn knew this was the time.

"Lassie, I gotta tell you something," Shawn took a deep breath. "Look, I'm crazy about you, okay? Every since the minute you pulled me aside and told me not to ever go near you or the station again. I saw it as a challenge. But when I got to know you, we became sort of….friends, ya know? And I started loving that look on your face when you were happy, and hating when you looked depressed, and that's when I realized."

Lassiter had tear streaks on his face, his eyes red, and he nodded, "It's when you realized this." Lassiter took Shawn's face in his hands, and kissed him. Shawn could feel the tenderness of lips, the slide of tongue, and the happiness of his own heart as he closed his eyes and slipped unconscious.


End file.
